


Fern-Winged Crows

by koviekay



Category: Fate: The Winx Saga (TV), Winx Club
Genre: Alfea (Winx Club), Cloud Tower (Winx Club), Fairies, Romance, Slow Burn, Witches, red fountain winx, winx club - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:21:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29648463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koviekay/pseuds/koviekay
Summary: Flora and Helia's love story.
Relationships: Aisha | Layla/Nabu (Winx Club), Bloom/Sky (Winx Club), Brandon/Stella (Winx Club), Flora/Helia (Winx Club), Musa/Riven (Winx Club), Tecna/Timmy (Winx Club)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

It was two in the afternoon when the moon rose in the sky.

This, of course, should have been odd; two in the afternoon is just about midday, and midday is much too early for the sun to have gone down. The moon, though, was just a painting, and therefore it was not too early for it to come out at all.

It was so detailed and precise that Helia could almost lose himself in it, could almost feel the coolness of the night breeze, almost smell the crisp night air. His back ached with the time spent hunched over his desk, creating it, but he had to admit that he was proud of it. Boasting wasn't his thing, either; it truly was an amazing painting.

A knock from his door interrupted his thoughts. Without waiting for a response, his uncle Saladin stepped through the door, dressed head to toe in battle armor. Saladin was every bit the warrior, with or without the armor. His posture was pin-straight, shoulders thrown back to accentuate his height. Even his gaze was subconsciously steely, scanning for exploitable weaknesses even in his own nephew. It had taken him years and years of practice to perfect that gaze. Saladin was a weapon, every inch of him poised and ready to strike.

Helia hated it. From a young age, Saladin had tried everything to turn Helia into an ultra-Specialist, but Helia would have none of it. At the age of seven, he had used his very first dagger, a birthday gift from his uncle, to carve himself a little wooden paintbrush. After a scolding by his uncle on the proper uses of a high-end dagger such as that one, Helia had promptly discarded it, disgusted with the idea that he was supposed to use it to hurt people. This continued on for the entirety of Helia's childhood; his uncle coming up with new ways to sculpt Helia into a fighter, and Helia finding new ways around it.

Today was another attempt, although not new, at morphing Helia into something he simply did not want to be. It was the Red Fountain exhibition, where all of Saladin's students would demonstrate their wondrous abilities to maim and kill innocent beings to protect the fairies (who were honestly much more capable of fighting than the Specialists) from problems that could probably all be solved with a simple conversation. His uncle dragged him to it every year, and every year Helia took his seat in the crowd and passed his time doodling in his sketchbook.

This year would be no different, he supposed, as he grabbed his string gloves. He had taken up the weapon to appease his uncle, but they also came in quite handy when there was a certain flower or leaf he wanted to draw that was just out of reach. As they were the least violent item that his uncle still considered a weapon, it was a win-win situation.

He followed his uncle down the long corridor and out of the building, into the courtyard. An arena had been built here, years before Saladin's time, evident by the cracks and chips in the stone seats. There was already a hundred people, and more were filing in, loudly greeting each other. Helia had to fight the urge to turn and run back into the building; he had never been a fan of crowds, and this was no exception.

Saladin led him down to his usual seat, where, luckily, there crowd was much more sparse. This area was reserved only for Saladin's family, and as he was the only member of said family here, it was just for him. He leaned back into the seat, tilting his face up to feel the warmth of the sunlight. Years ago, he had promised himself that he would never take small moments like this for granted; the soft sound of people talking behind him was calming enough to lull him into a meditative state. Combined with the fresh scent of trees and the outdoors, he could almost forget that he was here to witness the very acts of violence he was so against.

Almost directly above him, Helia heard a bird's cry. It didn't sound distressed, as most did around such a large group of people, but rather... curious. It was a crow, he realized, without opening his eyes. He loved crows; they were one of the most intelligent creatures alive, and often mistaken for bad omens. He understood what it felt like to be mistaken for something negative; he himself was often mistaken for a soldier, being Saladin's nephew.

Thus, inspiration struck. Helia gently flipped open his sketch pad. It was his favorite; the paper was made of fern leaves, slightly textured. It took up charcoal, Helia's favorite medium, perfectly. He began to sketch the bird, admiring the contrast between the bright white of the paper and the darkness of the charcoal. He wished the world was like this, black-and-white, good and bad. In reality, there were a million layers of color everywhere, but here, in this moment, he could pretend that things weren't so complicated.

The paper was the perfect texture for feathers. It only took a bit of shading here and there to create the image he had in mind, and he was nearly done before he was interrupted.

"Helia!" It was Sky, one of his uncle's favorite students. His voice was irritated, as if he had been calling Helia's name for ages already. This wasn't surprising; Helia got lost in his art constantly.

"Yes?" He smiled in response, the best apology he could give at the moment. He liked Sky, as much as he could like a soldier, anyway. He supposed that if he absolutely had to choose a Specialist team to work with, it would be Sky's; he never went around picking a fight, unlike most of the other "students" at Red Fountain. Sky was what a student here should be; taught to protect, but never to attack first.

"I wanted to introduce you to some of the girls from Alfea. This is Bloom, and that's Stella, and- Oh!" He wasn't able to finish speaking before Stella, a tall, obviously extroverted blonde, pushed herself to the front of the small crowd gathered before him. She waved her arms excitedly, and he vaguely wondered if this over-the-top attitude was to make up for the fact that she didn't have much going on in her head.

"Oh, are you an artist? What are you drawing?" She squealed, carelessly ripping the sketchbook, which contained the large majority of his most prized possessions, out of his hands. "Hey, these are pretty good! Can you draw me?" She continued flipping through the pages, stroking the charcoal, nearly ruining all of his hard work with her stupid greasy fingers.

He had just managed to grab it back from her, hoping to prevent any further damage, before another girl, this time pink-haired, snatched it from him again. She flipped through the pages in short, robotic motions. "Why don't you draw digitally? There is a myriad of brush strokes to choose from, and not to mention the colors and..." He stopped listening, letting her monotone voice drift on. There was nothing new about the "wonders of digital art" he hadn't heard before, but it was easier to just nod and smile until she was done.

Helia took a seat, hoping the pink-haired girl would be done soon so he could resume his sketching in peace. She droned on for what had to be at least ten minutes (the least interesting ten minutes of his life, it seemed) but eventually she did stop.

But something took her place.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thank you so much for reading. As always, leave any feedback. Thanks again :)

Flora had always pitied the sun.

It was the center of the universe; everything depended on it. It never got a day off, never got a break from the neediness of the other planets. She liked to think that, if it had a choice, it would choose to pause its flaming and take a nice long arctic vacation.

At this moment, she felt like the sun. On fire, although with embarrassment rather than flames (fire was Bloom's specialty, and Flora was more than happy to stay away from it). She, too, wished to get away from this awkwardness, but alas, like the sun, she did not have a choice.

Tecna had never been good with emotions. This wasn't really her fault; her powers focused on logic, and emotions often opposed that. To anyone else, it would be obvious that the long-haired boy — Helia, Sky had called him — was not listening to a word Tecna was saying. His eyes were glazed over, directed to anywhere but Tecna.

Flora gently pried the sketchbook out of the pink-haired fairy's hands. Thankfully, she gave it up without too much of a fight; she and Piff, her pixie, had already moved on to discussing some video game Flora had never heard of. Flora was tempted to flip through the sketchbook herself (Stella's critiques were almost always negative, he really had to be an amazing artist to impress her), but it wasn't her place. She would hate for someone to have such disregard for her privacy; it was safe to assume Helia felt the same.

The rest of her friends had already drifted away, trying to find a shady area to watch the exhibition from. This, of course, left her with the duty of apologizing for the rudeness of her friends. She was disappointed with them for leaving so abruptly, but saying she was surprised would be a lie.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about my friends. They didn't mean to come across as rude, but..." She trailed off, noticing that his eyes were still pointed elsewhere. Evidently, he was only partially paying attention to her. It was hard to blame him; no doubt he was expecting her to be just as insensitive as Tecna and Stella had been. If she was in his shoes, she'd want this interaction to be over with as quickly as possible.

That was alright! She would just have to show him that she wasn't anything like what he was expecting. Patiently, she took a seat next to him, placing the sketchbook carefully in her lap. He seemed to realize that she wasn't going anywhere, because finally, he looked at her.

Helia reminded Flora of a weeping willow. Long, wispy hair grazed his shoulders, in a similar fashion to the long-hanging leaves of the tree. Dark eyes looked up at her through thick lashes. He was smiling slightly, but she wasn't sure she'd describe it as a friendly smile. It was unconscious, more of a social nicety than anything, really.

"I'm Flora, fairy of nature." She extended the sketchbook towards him, in a similar fashion to extending a hand in greeting.

He took it. "It's nice to meet, you, Flora," he shifted in his seat, leaning towards her slightly.

"Um, listen..." Flora looked down towards her feet, face heating. "Stella doesn't like art, to get a raving review like that is... Well, it's just unheard of..." The end of her sentence perked up, too shy to ask the question directly. Helia, luckily, seemed to understand what she was trying to say. He wordlessly flipped to the first page in the sketchbook and held it out to her.

It wasn't hard to see why Stella was so impressed. The crow he had drawn was amazing; the charcoal itself seemed to glitter on the page, about to come alive.

"Fern-leaf paper — It's beautiful. I don't think I've ever seen a black and white-picture so full of life." It wasn't a lie. She was the fairy of nature; she worked with life. It was her job to cultivate it, to grow it. Life was colorful — plants and flowers came in all different shapes and shades. For a simple black and white drawing to seem like it was jumping out of the page at her spoke wonders about his talent as an artist.

He smiled, and tilted his head up. "Flora, what do you think about crows?"

It didn't take her any time at all to answer. "I think they're misunderstood," Flora paused, then continued when his eyebrows raised, a silent way of asking her to elaborate. "They're seen as these evil, malicious creatures, and most of the reason is because they're scavengers — they feed on things that are dead — but they don't actually do the killing."

Helia nodded in agreement. The sketchbook had been handed back to him, and he softly traced the edge of the page. "They're a symbol of change and transition. Of life magic, in some cultures. They're beautiful animals, really."

"You'd think they were horrible, from what everyone thinks of them," she responded. Flora was surprised, albeit pleasantly so, to find that he shared her opinion. "Is that why you chose to draw one? The symbolism?"

He chuckled softly, but Flora didn't think he was teasing her. "Something like that." His eyes were on the paper again, tracing over the lines. 

Her phone buzzed, a signal that her friends were trying to find her. They'd found a place to sit, apparently, and were waiting for her. Flora wasn't sure if she was happy to leave or not. On one hand, she didn't know this boy at all, and she had come here with her friends. On the other, she wanted to know more about him. Sky had told her that he was Saladin's nephew. Why, then, wasn't he participating in the exhibition? And besides that, Saladin was an incredibly intense person. How did he find the time to train and become so good at art?

Another buzz interrupted her thoughts. "I should go find my friends, they're asking where I am." She tore her eyes from her phone to Helia, and was taken aback to see that his eyes were fully on her. The intensity of his gaze was almost unnerving.

In one fluid motion, he tore the page from the sketchbook and held it out to her. "To remember that perception can be deceiving," he explained.

"There you are, Flora!" Stella's voice cut through the air. Flora barely had time to take the page from Helia's before Stella dragged her away towards their seats. "I've been looking for you everywhere!" She gushed as they walked.

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Flora folded the paper and placed it carefully in her pocket before Stella could see it. Flora quite literally hadn't moved. Stella had been there, earlier, to meet Helia; she'd known exactly where to look. Based on Stella's smudged lipstick and messy hair, though, the only place she'd been "looking for Flora" was Brandon's face.

"That Helia guy seemed really weird, wasn't he? So quiet!" Stella exclaimed. She wasn't really trying to have a conversation with Flora — she was tapping away on her phone screen. Flora could never figure out how Stella managed to avoid bumping into things while walking and texting.

"Stella, what's your opinion on crows?" The question hovered in the air for a few seconds, as Stella finished sending a text.

"Those nasty black birds?" She scrunched her nose in disgust. "They're like, evil or something, aren't they?"

Before Flora could respond, the sun fell from the sky.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! This chapter was a little rough, sorry about that. Next chapter will be out in the next few days!

Helia had never quite understood the appeal of muses.

It seemed so restricting, getting all of your inspiration from one thing, one person. How could one person be so interesting as to be the topic of a million poems and paintings and sculptures? There was inspiration everywhere; in trees, in flowers, in architecture, in animals. Why limit yourself to just one muse?

His sketchbook was a perfect demonstration of this; each page was filled with a different sketch, a variety of shapes and colors all in one place. Flipping through it was like flipping through his very mind; it was seeing everything he found beautiful enough to draw.

What it wasn't filled with was depictions of violence.

He had to give his uncle some credit, though. He had specifically arranged every act to be more fascinating than the rest. And they were fascinating, even he had to admit. Not every act was focused on a weapon. Some Specialists sparred, and it looked so much like dancing that he could almost forget they were fighting.

Saladin had gone full out for this year's exhibition; he'd even brought in dragons from one of the neighboring realms. Naturally, Helia did not have much experience with dragons (fire and the paper he carried around with him constantly did not mix particularly well), but they were truly amazing. Four majestic, hulking figures so large they could barely fit inside of the stadium hovered just above the crowd, their scales glittering and gleaming in the sunlight. They were each ridden by a Specialist from Saladin's best team: Brandon, Sky, Riven, and Timmy.

The arena was completely silent, everyone watching the last act in amazement. Magic, in the form of purple smoke, pulsed around the dragons as if it were alive. It almost looked as if it was controlling them, contorting and twisting the dragons. 

That didn't seem quite right.... In all of the photos of dragons Helia had ever seen, the magic around them was red, or orange. The colors of fire, as one might expect. Never.... purple.

Whispers broke through his thoughts, both worrying and reassuring him that he wasn't the only one who thought this was odd.

That was when the sky fell.

Or, at least, it seemed to. In a whirlwind of fire and flapping wings, the dragons attacked.

Expectedly, the screaming started, too. Students, both Specialists and fairies, rushed around him, trying to escape the arena as quickly as possible. Of course, they had no regards for anyone else's safety; people were literally getting trampled.

What concerned him, though, were the five multicolored fairies flying straight towards the dragons rather than away from them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, thanks for reading! So I'm super unhappy with the way the last two chapters turned out (I didn't draft them or anything beforehand) so before I start working on Ch. 5 I will be rewriting 3 and 4. Lastly, this story will not follow exactly what happened in the series. I found their relationship a little rushed, so I'll be adding some more scenes of my own making. Thanks!

Flora had never been a fan of fire.

Her plants were especially prone to burning. She'd devoted her whole life to her plants; she was not willing to let the unpredictable mechanism of destruction destroy her life's work.

Four hulking, fire-breathing figures were not something she was excited to fight.

It took her a moment to fully process the scene. The crowd around her was in chaos; people screaming, crying, running for their lives. A blast of fire blasted through the air, narrowly missing her. Flora herself was just about ready to flee when she saw where the blast had landed: right on a small rosebud. A moment before, it had been ready to bloom. Now, it was just ashes.

That was all it took to get her ready for a fight. A glance back at her friends confirmed that they were just as ready as she was.

"Magic Winx!" Their voices mixed together, barely audible over the screeching. Throwing their hands into the air, they transformed with a flash of light and glitter.

Had Flora felt any less rushed, she might have stopped to admire the group of fairies. Sun glinted off of their glittery transformation outfits, translucent wings filtering the light in such a way that it seemed as though there was an aura surrounding them. Truly, they were a magical sight.

Of course, as Flora was dead set on stopping the dragons, she didn't stop to think of any of this.

The fairies raced through the air, each sending magic blasts towards the creatures. Beams of water from Aisha put out the small fires on the ground as Stella redirected light all around the dragons, trying to distract them. Bloom, her magic most tuned to the dragons, was trying to find the source of the problem.

Flora's magic, it seemed, would be most useful in trapping the dragons to stop them from causing any more damage. Tecna and Musa were already on this, Musa's sound waves herding them while Tecna wrapped a cage around them. Flora channeled her magic in the forms of vines, letting it flow through and out of her to join Tecna in creating a cage.

Whatever Bloom was doing was working; the dragons were beginning to calm down and the pulsing smoke was starting to dissipate. They just needed to keep it up for a few more moments, and this would all be over.

Behind her, Stella shrieked. At the time, Flora barely gave this a second thought; she figured one of the dragons had just come a bit too close to the orange-clad fairy. Now, though, hurtling through the air after Stella blasted her out of the sky, she figured the reason Stella was screaming was not because of the dragons, but because of the brand new monster, whose claws snapped through the air where Flora had been a second ago.

Flora landed on the floor of the arena, dust picking up around her. She was too weak from all of the magic she had spent trying to trap the dragons to stay transformed. Combined with the fall she had just taken, there was no way she could fight this thing.

The monster fixed its gaze on her. Flora's form flickered until she was back to her civilian outfit. Halfheartedly, she sent a few blasts towards the monster. It didn't budge.

She backed up slowly as the monster stalked towards her. It was toying with her; its claws were certainly large enough to reach her where she was, but it wanted her to be scared. It wanted her to know that she had nowhere to run now, no way to fight it. It wanted her to gag in the face of its rancid breath, to know that its long, gleaming teeth would soon be embedded in her.

It roared, rising back onto its hind legs. This was it. Flora had to way to escape. The only thing she could do now was shut her eyes tight and hope her death came quickly.


End file.
